A homily for the Solemnity of Our Lord Jesus Christ, King of the Universe, November 20, 2022
2 Sm 5:1-3, Col 1:12-20, Lk 23:35-43
I learned a long time ago that a boss says “I” and “you” but a leader says “we” and “us.”
A boss tells you what to do and precisely how he wants you to do it, and then tells you to get going and do it while he (almost always a he) sits back and watches … uh … supervises.
A leader shows the team what needs to be done and relies on the skills of all participants to join in the effort. A leader works alongside everyone, clearly articulating the goal and guiding everyone to the destination.
A boss preys on people’s fears and lack of information. A leader reassures and educates.
A boss exploits people. A leader empowers them.
A boss gets fat. A leader sweats.
And yet, so, so many people choose to follow bosses and not leaders.
That’s why I still find this solemnity a little confusing for modern believers, especially in these divided political times when so many countries have embraced autocrats and outright dictators. When so many people worldwide have surrendered their intelligence and right to decide for themselves and instead opted to become cogs in a machine, drones to be manipulated.
Framed by millennia of history and doubly by recent events, the notion of a king runs counter to what most Americans believe or embrace. History is filled with stories of ruthless, greedy, selfish kings; even the Bible has accounts of bad guys on the throne.
Fiction is rife with them as well, whether Targaryens in “Game of Thrones” or the Red Queen in “Alice in Wonderland.” Off with their heads, indeed!
And even though the world paused respectfully for a moment to acknowledge the 70-year reign of Elizabeth, she was scarcely entombed before the role of the monarchy and its culpability in the so-called British Empire’s atrocities came under serious scrutiny.
Throughout history, most kings have proved to be bosses, with all the baggage and reasons to be hated or at least distrusted that bossism engenders. Kings who were bosses are remembered unfavorably, regardless of the good they may have done (often done only because they faced being deposed or executed).
Kings from history who are revered — Richard the Lion-Hearted, for example — were leaders. They shared the load; they faced the same foes; they risked everything for a noble goal.
Which is why Jesus the Christ is first among kings deserving devotion, reverence and, yes, deserving to be followed. He is first and foremost.
Jesus knows the destination and he guides us to it: the Kingdom of God, here on Earth and eternally in Heaven.
Jesus did the heavy lifting once and for all on the cross and he now leads us to carry the gentle yoke of kindness, charity, peace and justice. Jesus became the Christ, and he leads us to be Christ to one another.
Jesus bled and sweated. We can do no less.
When we bow down in homage to the king of the universe, Jesus lifts us and walks beside us, his hand in the small of our backs, keeping us on the right path and steadying us when the going gets rough. He knows what it feels like to stumble and fall while carrying a heavy load. He did it three times en route to Golgotha. He doesn’t want that for anybody else.
Two thousand years ago, Jesus was a new kind of king, a loving leader whose purpose and philosophy and manner of leadership were so unfamiliar to the world that few people recognized him for what he is.
Two thousand years later, many people still don’t.
Do we? Can we see him clearly?
If we do, are we — through living his Gospel — introducing him to the world as the leader every one of our sisters and brothers needs?
Our Lord Jesus Christ, King of the Universe, is less interested in our bowing and scraping before him and more desiring that we continue his work of saving humankind from falling prey to our imperfections and our lack of wisdom.
Our king is leading us to the joys of God’s kingdom of true peace and justice. And he always walks with us.
